Date: Tue, 10 Dec 1996 14:58:52 GMT
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	<title> Observations on Fatherhood  </title> 
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<b>Observations on Fatherhood </b>
<p>
Daniel S. Weld
<p>
                        

Anxious waiting broken by the expected phone call. Margaret's voice
unexpectedly coy - she's hiding good news! Absolutely unbelievable. We rush
to the fountain and hug in the sun, gazing into each others face,
surrounded by spring, ducks and the Mountain. She recounts Nancy Klein's
words on the phone "We did it!" Could this be happening to us?  Could this
actually be real? Realizing the odds, but unable to hold back a vision of
new life. Loving each other. I've never been happier.
<p>

After two months of helping Margaret through bedrest, fearing premature
delivery, the expected induction was almost surreal. But when they broke
Margaret's waters, and she was launched into the rapids of labor, the
tempest was pretty shocking to watch. Contractions were back-to-back with
no time to rest or recuperate. Fortunately, Margaret dilated quickly and
after a mere two agonizing hours, her pleas for an epidural were granted.
Now I'd heard from multiple sources that this form of pain relief had
almost magical power. In fact one friend had such gratitude for her
anesthesiologist, a man named Hans, that she would have bestowed the name
on her child if she hadn't gotten a daughter. Before helping Margaret
through labor, I thought this story apocryphal, but now I know better. If
her anesthesiologist hadn't been a woman, I imagine that Margaret might
have argued we switch our choices as well. 
<p>

The delivery itself was amazing. Adam and Galen entered the world just 9
minutes apart as witnessed by about fourteen doctors and nurses. I did what
I could, but even without me Margaret had a full squad of cheerleaders.
Good thing too - I just couldn't keep a straight face while saying "What
<b>good</b> pushes!" but Tanya and the nurses sounded so sincere. When Adam
emerged at 2:43pm on 10/22/95 (my Mom's birthday!), he was so small and
helpless. It's impossible to describe his first tiny cry. Galen almost
swam out, riding the water slide of his breaking amniotic sac (Tanya
couldn't jump back and so got soaked). I'm so happy for the videotape
because it all happened so fast.  <p>

<p> <hr> 
<p> <img src="http://www.cs.washington.edu/homes/weld/photos/boys/dan+adam.jpeg" ALIGN=right>

The next two weeks were frustrating. I had planned to take uninterrupted
time off from work, but given that the boys had to stay at Swedish
hospital, there was little for me to do. It made more sense for me to work
so I could take time off when they came home. But of course I wanted to
visit at night, so my schedule revolved around the bus trip to Swedish and
my brief chance to feed and change them. A tiny amount of contact for 5-7
hours of travel/hospital time each day, but the contact was amazing. <p>

I gather that many couples have an emotional homecoming with their child.
The homecoming was emotional for me too, but the particular flavor was
"panic." We took the two boys from Swedish to Childrens where I dropped
Margaret and Adam, then I took Galen home alone. As soon as we pulled out
of the Children's parking lot, Galen started to cry. By the time I got him
inside, he was screaming. And I was alone. No Margaret. No nurses. Ok, I'm
a new-age man.  In fact, I thought I was pretty good at diapers and
bottles, but that was the hospital routine. I had that wired. But here at
home, nothing was in its place. I couldn't find the diapers. The breast
milk was in the trunk of the car. There were no bottles to be found, nor
any nipples. The wailing grew louder!  Finally, I found the diapers and by
removing the soiled one in preparation of its replacement gave Galen the
opportunity he sought - pingo, pee all over Dad.  <p>

<br clear=all>
<hr>

Once Adam came home from Childrens Hospital, we finally had our family.
Spending days with the boys at home fulfilled many dreams, but the nights
were another matter. The sleep deprivation didn't bother me (not until my
reserves wore out a month later), but Margaret did. She started acting
weird at night. We'd put the boys down nestled together in the cradle
across the room and then climb into bed ourselves. Later, woken from a
barely-begun sleep, I'd hear the cries and wonder if Margaret would get up
to feed them (as we had agreed) or whether I should go and try to comfort
them (a futile endeavor given my anatomy). Although the cries were
escalating, Margaret wasn't moving; couldn't she hear them? I felt guilty
that Margaret had full responsibility for feeding (even though we had
agreed on this plan), so I felt hesitant to wake her. But finally, I nudged
"I think Galen's hungry" I suggested quietly. "That's why I'm feeding him!"
she responded. I got angry "<b>What?!</b> He's over in the cradle
screaming" And she woke up "Oh, I was sure he was here in bed nursing -
what a vivid dream!" On subsequent nights we had variations. 

<p>Dan: "Don't
you think you should go feed Adam?" 

<p>Margaret: "That could be complicated."

<p>Dan (incredulous) "<b>Complicated?!?</b>" 

<p>Margaret: "Because of all the babies here in bed."  All she dreamed of
were breasts, suckling, and rivers flowing with milk.

<p>
<hr>
<p> <img src="http://www.cs.washington.edu/homes/weld/photos/boys/b-announce.jpeg" ALIGN=left>
Some nights I would bottle feed the boys (not much relief for Margaret since
she then had to pump, but they often ate more and hence slept longer after
a bottle feed). And even when Margaret breast fed, I would get up to help
change diapers and burp them. It's always hard to climb from the warm,
sleepy, covers into the cold chill of the bedroom. But the sight of Adam or
Galen gently stretching and slowly waking up is so wondrous that delight
quickly overwhelms selfish annoyance. It's a joy to watch them wuffling
heads back and forth in search of Margaret's breast. And once they both
latch on, they stare, wide-eyed, watching each other, competitively
sucking.  <p>

Galen in particular is fun to watch. He gets so frantically hungry that he
often has difficulty realizing that the breast is right THERE in his mouth.
But when he gets latched, he has a tremendous vacuum. Last night I realized
why his sucking sounded so familiar. It was the same rhythmic noise of the
gasoline pump at the service station: Chug, chug, CHING, Chug, chug, CHING.
<p>

<br clear=all>

<hr>
Over Thanksgiving, Margaret's sister Anne and her husband Jona brought
their newborn, Oliver, to Seattle. Only one month older, but <b>boy</b> is he
big. And what an eater!  Apparently, he keeps asking his mother
"Please madam, could I have a bit more of that milk... with some milk sauce?"

<p> <hr> (12/7/95) Unbelievable. I'd read cartoons about how new parents
actually got excited about pop and drool, but when I came home from the
departmental Christmas party, Margaret was bursting to tell me about her
evening alone with the boys...  "Galen had this really MASSIVE poop!" she
exulted.

<p>
<hr>
The boy's Bris. Lots of heavy feelings and concerns - especially in the 24
hours right before the event. But I don't wish to write about it. Instead,
let me rejoyce in the fact that they are fine. And recount the funniest
incident. Part way through, the rabbi figured that the mohel was probably
ready with the preparations (in the nursery) and (going to get the boys)
discovered that there was five minutes to kill. Delaying, the rabbi asks
kids in attendence if there are any questions... 

<p>
Silence. Then Una says "What's a bris?"

<p> "Very good question" says the rabbi and answers with a long,
philosphical discussion of the ritual's history and significance. Then,
since there was still need for delaying tactics, he asked again
"Any other questions?"

<p>
Casey chirps up: "Are the bow and arrows <b>REAL?</b>"

<p>
<hr>
<p> <img src="http://www.cs.washington.edu/homes/weld/photos/boys/adam+galen.jpeg" ALIGN=right>

Margaret and I always used to remind each other that it is crucial to treat
life as a process, not as goals and objectives.  The boys make this ever
more clear. It's incredible how fast they are growing - at seven weeks,
they are almost double their birth weight.  Focusing and tracking. Loving
to be held. Hands gaining control. Smiling.  The ultimate process.

<br clear=all>

<p>
<hr>
(1/2/95) What a night. I came home late (8:15pm) after a hard day which
started early. The AAAI deadline is only 6 days away and things are heating
up. But I felt so bad missing a whole day of the boy's lives... The
bike ride home rejuvenated me and once I arrived it was delightful to just
hold and calm first Galen then Adam. (Margaret had already cooked a
delicious meal). Felt <b>so</b> relaxing! But the simple pleasure of coaxing
Galen to sleep on my chest was nothing compared to what was to follow...

<p>
While we ate dinner in the kitchen, the boys were in their car seats beside
us.  Adam was calmer now and waving his hands like a conductor. Suddenly I
noticed that he was watching me intently, so I dropped to my knees and
crawled over beside him... His eyes are locked on mine. I shape a grin and
he suddenly matches it! Huge exaggeration! Eyes incredibly wide!  Amazing!
Such spasms of feeling!  It goes on and on! His body writhes with it! A
happiness seizure! I will never forget it.

<p> <img src="http://www.cs.washington.edu/homes/weld/photos/boys/adam.jpeg" ALIGN=left>

Eventually it became to much and, overstimulated, he started to cry. The
binky solved the problem, and 20 min later he was ready again. As I smiled
at him, his eyes opened SO wide!  Head wiggled and fussed as he tried to
figure out what to do. Then the smile broke out - WOW!

<p>
It really seems like a momentous occasion. I wonder what is going on in his
head. At some level, it's more incredible than learning to use one's hands.
This is the first real communication with another being for him. Up until
now it's all been a one-way cry for help, but tonight it was a two-way
connection. 

<p> I had thought that we'd had social smiles before this, but they have
been paltry affairs compared to tonight. They were gratifying, but just not
of the same significance.

<br clear=all>

<p>
<hr>
(1/9/95)
The AAAI deadline is finally past --- papers express mailed yesterday at
five --- and I got to managed to spend last evening and this morning
actually watching and playing with the boys. How much they've changed in
the past week! Adam seems to perceive the world in a completely different
manner than the last time I really spent time with him. He really tracks
objects, eyes shift from Mom to Dad and back when both are in proximity. 
It's an incredible learning phenomenon; I just can't imagine how much is
going on inside his head, how he's figuring it out. Originally the stream
of visual information had no structure, but now he can recognize human
faces!? There must be some incredibly strong bias which directs the process.
It's both magical and inspiring. It's also incredibly fun! Both Adam and
Galen are giving lots of smiles now. Melts my heart.

<p>
A couple nights ago I came home from work at midnight, all tense and
absorbed with technical (and political) issues. The bike ride thru crisp
air cleared my mind and set the stage, but when I saw the boys I remembered
how unimportant research is in the grand scheme of things. The boys are
groing so fast that I simply must take a day off a week to witness the
process. 

<p> 
<hr>  
(1/24/95) The boys are gaining control of all their muscles, and naturally their
mouths come first. Their feeding behavior is very different from the
tentative and uncoordinated initial efforts. Now they know what they want
and are quite expert at getting it.  At times they exude a calm competence in
the pursuit of their food, and it reminds me of cowboys herding their
cattle. If Margaret's nipple was a steer, the boy's mouth would be a
lasso. The capture movement is a giant facial lunge, much like the leap
into a saddle. Adam and Galen are breast cowboys.

<p>
<hr>
<img src="http://www.cs.washington.edu/homes/weld/photos/boys/galen.jpeg" ALIGN=right>

(2/6/96 Hawaii Big Island)

I tried taking the boys for their first swim in the ocean, and the 
frightening wailing which ensued suggests that they didn't fully like
it. I controlled Adam's water landing by holding him in a mock
standing position and gently lowering him towards the black sand
which was periodically washed in a thin sheet of water. When his feet
first touched a cold wave, Adam's little legs retracted up next to his
body (knees splayed sideways) like the wheels of an airplane that
refused the touchdown.

<p>
However, the ocean experience has caused me to notice how Galen (just
a bit) resembles a wet flopping fish when he gets angry and
frustrated - too hungry to eat, all stiff, neck whipping around, arms
flailing. Like a sad and panicking grouper, out of water.


<br clear=all>

<p> Nathan's bouncy chair has been a revelation. When we first put Adam in
it, his eyes expanded saucer-like. The brightly colored toy bar fixed his
eyes and his arms started their weird spasmic gyrations. The toys are so
easy to grasp and so rewardingly pivoted on the bar that the slightest
knock produces a gratifying jiggle or spin. One can almost see the
reinforcement learning at work. Indeed, it's quite amazing how dramatically
his behavior has grown in just two days. He now hits with much higher
reliability (both hands) and frequently contects solidly enough to spin the
toys for a loop. I think controlled grasping may be but a week away. How
satisfying it will be for them to be able to put things in their mouth
<i>whenever they want</i>. In the meantime, they are dedicated students:
the combination of complete concentration with helplessly incompetent
movements is incredibly endearing.


<p> <hr>
No matter how many times it happens, I can't seem to get used to the sudden
surprise when one of the boys has an oral eruption. The ensuing river of
fresh spitup soaks my shorts and races down my leg with shocking warmth. It
feels strangely as if I was peeing in my pants. No, I don't <i>like</i> it,
but it is somehow akin to a forbidden act, an illicit pleasure. Once past
the shock, I yield to the experience and smile.

<p> <hr> 
<p> <img src="http://www.cs.washington.edu/homes/weld/photos/boys/adam-sleeping-hawaii.jpeg" ALIGN=left>
(2/20/96) Our week in Hawaii with David, Felecia and their baby
Nathan was wonderful, but the trip has lead to a new avoidance behavior for
Margaret now that we are back home in Seattle. Last night, when she woke in
the wee hours to the sound of small, hungry wimpers, she simply nestled
deep in the covers ignoring the cries. After all, she told herself, it's
just Nathan crying, not one of <i> my </i> boys.

<p> <hr> (2/24/96) In a surprising landmark, Adam exhibited purposeful
grasping this morning. His look of intense concentration would have
inspired the ape-suited actors from the beginning of <i>2001 A Space
Odyssey</i> in their discovery of fire. Indeed, we could almost hear the
ghostly sound of Strauss' <i>Also Sprach Zarathustra</i> playing in the
background. Meanwhile, Galen remains stuck in the excited batting
stage. When I managed to trick him into holding the Squish, he then flailed
his arm in such a way as to knock himself in the head. 

<p> <hr> (2/26/96) At the routine checkup today, Margaret asked our
Pediatrician why babies drool; apparently Science has yet to solve this
mystery, but the doctor did explain that the more talkative ones drool most
copiously. Indeed, it is the squawking Adam who soaks his clothes and
drenches ours with the precious substance. 

<p> Inspired by this soggy state, Margaret is considering applying her
epidemiological skills to a prospective study correlating drooling in
infancy with verbal performance during higher education.  Perhaps this will
lead to the ultimate early predictor of college admissions: the Salivatory
Aptitude Test.

<br clear=all>


<p> <hr> (3/2/96) Chip's birthday coming just a week after our boy's four
month birthday emphasizes so many things. The Yin and Yang of life and
death. The transitory nature of so many of life's joys. The danger of
taking people and pleasures for granted. I just can't imagine how the
death of Adam or Galen would hit me. How terrifying. 

<p> <hr> 

(3/16/96) We just returned from a week in Utah, camping in the
desert canyon country with the boys. By day, we scrambled across slickrock,
pushed between sandstone needles, and explored dark joint caves --- babies
tucked securedly in snugglies. By night, Adam and Galen slept quietly in
their own sleeping bags on either side of us. Sometimes when I woke, I
forgot that I was a father - the owl's call across the quiet night, the
bright stars, the smell of wilderness - it seemed natural, like so many of
my camping experiences in the past. Then I'd hear a slight stirring to my
side and I'd realize my sons were here too! Incredible.

<p> <img src="http://www.cs.washington.edu/homes/weld/photos/boys/cousins.jpeg" ALIGN=right>

<p> Utah was the first chance for Nathaniel and William, ages 9 and 6, to
meet their cousins. I was touched by their obvious love for the babies and
their excited interest in playing with and singing to them. I also noted
the sibling rivalry that Nathaniel and William displayed as we hiked during
the day. The age difference affects the relationship so strongly ---
William copying and competing his role model, Nathaniel needing occasional
time away from the cloying dependence. With no age difference, Adam and
Galen will have a very different relationship. The opportunity for
companionship is great, but the danger of competition is commensurate. I
wonder how it will develop?


<p> After camping in Canyonlands, we faced the tortuous 7:30 drive back to
the Salt Lake City airport. No way could the boys go that long between
feeds, but we didn't feel comfortable driving with them out of their
carseats. And if we stopped for nursing, that might make the trip 25%
longer. Finally, my limber wife arrived at a solution.  Climbing into the
back seat of our Pathfinder, she arched her back, leaned over Galen, and
managed to initiate breast feeding while he was safely in the car seat. The
rear mirror view was quite hilarious. 

<br clear=all>



<p> <hr>
(3/25/96) My secret confession: last night I was the last to bed; as I
entered the dark and silent bedroom, I bent down by the bassinets and
sniffed my boys. The moon had set and I couldn't see their faces in the
shadow, but I felt soft breathing on my cheek. Slowly I sampled the air and
savored the smell of my sons. I do this every night.  

<p> <hr>
<p> <img src="http://www.cs.washington.edu/homes/weld/photos/boys/galen-tub-sunglasses.jpeg" ALIGN=left>


(3/31/96) At today's shower for Oren and Ruth, the soon-to-be parents asked
for  advice from all in attendance. One woman observed that <i>
everyone </i> would be imposing suggestions, and noted that they should
feel free to adapt (or ignore) anything that didn't seem right. This set me
thinking about all the half-right advice I'd been given over the ages. For
example, Douglas Adams in his famous book <i> The Hitchhiker's Guide to the
Galaxy</i> observes that the most important object is the common beach
towel which should be carried everywhere. I'd adapt this one to refer to
a spare diaper. 

<p> And the NRA warns agains walking around with a loaded gun not set to
safety - it could be lethal. My interpretation: after feeding, always thump
the baby's back until you hear the positive sound of the burb engaging
safety - it's just as irresponsible to walk around with a loaded and cocked
baby (even if the potential danger is a tad less terminal). 

<p>
<hr>
(4/9/96) During our weekly lunch, David shared his pride that Nathan has
started crawling. Then, that evening, David calls chagrined. Someone
has punctured his pride by explaining that <i>true</i> crawling requires the
belly to be elevated from the floor; apparently, Nathan has only been
<i>scooting</i>. The fine points of the distinction are lost on me (my boys
can barely lift their heads off the floor when trapped on their
bellies), but I'm touched by the degree to which David's honesty is
tempering his bragging. "I just didn't want you to get the wrong idea
about his accomplishments," David concluded the call. 

<p>
Whether one calls it crawling or scooting, the drawbacks of the
approaching milestones begin to sink in. Recently David and Felicia
awoke at midnight to the sound of crying. Apparently, Nathan had
rolled over in his sleep, scooted several feet to the side of his
crib, risen high on hands and knees, and woke himself by bashing his
head against the crib bars. 

<p> And clearly it's a hard lesson for Nathan to learn the
ramifications of his new found power. Yesterday when we played
together on the floor, Nathan was interested solely in scooting. But
he didn't quite understand what he was doing.  With each deliberate
movement, Nathan backed farther and farther away from the rest of the
group. As the distance separating him from David grew, Nathan grew
ever more frantic. His face screwed up into an increasingy worried
frown, but he couldn't grasp that <i>his</i> actions were responsible
for the parting.

<p>
<hr>
(4/14/96) Ruth delivered her baby boy last night. Watching anxious
Oren these last few weeks brought back memories from the end of
Margaret's pregnancy. How could I have forgotten the tense expectancy of
the slowly approaching event?  Like Oren, I remembered being worried about
whether I would be ready, physically, to support my wife during labor if it
dragged on for 36 hours or more. (Somehow, I never doubted that <i> she</i>
could handle her part!). 

<p>
And although Oren never mentioned it, I could see that he was scared that
he might not love his baby. It comes back to me now, although it seems hard
to believe --- I had that fear too. But how could I <i>not</i> love them?
How fast time passes and how quickly I forget. 

<p>
(4/22/96) Today is Adam and Galen's six month birthday!  They seem so small
to me, but they are <i>so</i> different from Oren and Ruth's son, Eli. It
seems impossible that our boys were ever so inert, so compliant, so
delicate as newborn Eli. Although my rational mind recollects that Adam and
Galen <i>together</i> weighed less than Eli does now, it seems impossible. 

<p> <hr>

<p> <img src="http://www.cs.washington.edu/homes/weld/photos/boys/goose.jpeg" ALIGN=right>


(4/24/96) Springtime is magnificent in Seattle, signaled by an exuberant
procession of daffodils, tulips, cherry blossoms, and dogwoods. But even
more than the flowers, springtime for me is symbolized by the nesting
shorebirds with their promise of fuzzy, yellow chicks.  A month ago I
spotted a well-concealed nest tended by two Canada geese --- built mostly
of reeds and grass, the nest is perched on a tiny island in the middle of a
stream entering Lake Washington. Since my bicycle commute takes me along
the stream, I've been able to watch the nest carefully each morning and
afternoon. For over a month, I've empathized with the parents' dedication
to egg warming --- I would pedal towards the nest with anticipation and
feel comforted to see the nest always well tended.

<p>
Unfortunately, yesterday brought torrential rains. Garbed in Goretex, I
hunkered down for the ride to work, but when I reached the stream I
everything looked different. The nest's island was swallowed by a flood
and there was no sign of either bird. The scene struck me at a profoundly
emotional level and I couldn't stop thinking about it all day. Although the
rain had subsided by 6pm, the stream was still choked with muddy water and
I could discern nothing from the bank. I felt suprisingly depressed,
despite spotting the first chicks of the season not far from the
stream. The gander hissed at me as I approached his gangly offspring, and I
kept my distance not daring to hope that this was the family I had been
watching so long. 

<p> This morning the waters receded. I left my bike and pushed through wet
brush to find a fallen log which crossed the brook. Balancing carefully
above the swampy flow, I approached the ruined nest. Four large grey eggs
lay half-submerged in the chill water to one side of a soggy pile of
straw. Abandoned.  I couldn't quite believe that the depressing sight was
real, and all I could do was think back to the many times when we thought
(and desperately hoped) that Margaret was pregnant, only to be confronted
by depressing truth. The years of trying and, later, months of bedrest were
difficult, but how lucky our final result! Regaining my bike, I wondered
what the geese were thinking, how much they understood. Did they morn? I
wished the birds well.


<p> <hr>
<p> 
<img src="http://www.cs.washington.edu/homes/weld/photos/boys/snugglies.jpeg" ALIGN=left>

(5/27/95) Stuffed in a 757 and heading towards Scotland, I fear my
impending nine-day separation from the boys. Even more than their own
growth, the inexorable passage of the past week (with my commensurate
and growing dread) came to symbolize time's momentum. I hate being
deprived from a week of their lives. I wonder how they'll change while
I'm gone and whether they'll remember me when I return. 

<p>
Since I've last writen in this journal, Adam and Galen have changed
enormously. A month ago, when we placed them on their bellies to
strengthen their necks, they hated it so much that we referred to the
exercise as "Tummy Torture."  But now, they like it! Although neither
one is yet crawling, Galen wriggles all around and frequently rolls
from back to tummy in seach of toy-induced, oral gratification. I
wonder if he could begin scooting or crawling  while I'm in Scotland?


With the arrival of summer weather, our neighborhood has come
alive.  While it was the incredible abundance of children (thirteen of
the fourteen families have two or more kids) which attracted us to the
deadend block in the first place, only this year are we really
integrating into the community.  Afternoons and weekends see dozens of
kids playing in the streets with parents trading off informal
chaparone duty. Whenever anyone spots an appoaching auto, the warning
"Car!" is raised and repeated by all the kids - it reminds me of the
way tail-slapping resonates across a beaver pond at the first hint of
danger.

<p> <hr>

<p> <img src="http://www.cs.washington.edu/homes/weld/photos/boys/heather.jpeg" ALIGN=right>

The sense of community rains from the rhythms of the children -
kids stream out of one house and flow into the next in an
interconnected swirl of different games.  With the addition of Adam
and Galen, the flow extends to our house as well. A rainy afternoon
will usually bring a knock, and Julia or Jessica or Kate will ask
"Excuse me, but are the boys available for holding?"  It's an
extraordinary convenience having the extra helping hands, but more
importantly, it's a great way to get to know new people. Until
recently, most of my friends were exactly my age (with the exception
of a few older couples), but now I'm getting to know some teenagers.
I'm sad my parents live so far away, but our block is the next best
thing to an extended family. 

<p> Indeed, the interactions between the neighborhood kids tell us much
about ourselves... The other night as we relaxed in the Grant's yard across
the street, the eldest daughter, Laura, left for a sleepover. ``I love you
Mom!'' she called out in farewell ``I love you Dad!'' Then as an
afterthought she turned to her younger sister and said ``Bye Julia, you're
ok.'' While the incident was amusing at the time, it has come to symbolize
a challenge to my marriage. Recently, as Margaret left for work in the
morning she first kissed Adam goodbye, professing her love.  Then she kissed
Galen, telling him how much she would miss him. She was halfway to the door
when my ``Aren't you forgetting someone?!'' stopped her in her tracks, and
we both burst out laughing. 


<p> <hr> (6/7/96) During the nine days I was in Scotland, my boys changed
so much.  Fortunately, my nightmare that they would both forget me and
learn to crawl was ill founded. As I entered the front door (after 21 hours
of exhausting travel), I could hear them fussing and crying depite
Margaret's best efforts at placation. But one look at my approaching face
and they grew happy and excited. Arms reached out to be held. My dream come
true!  Their faces were subtly changed, their heft noticeably heavier, but
they smelled the same! And I hadn't missed the transition to crawling. 

<p>
However, Adam <i>had</i> learned to sit. What a change this imposes on
life! Now,  Adam is perfectly happy to simply sit in front of a big box of
toys. He'll carefully select one, grab it, pull it loose from the tangle,
chew on it, shake it, throw it to one side, and repeat with a different
choice. Amazing. 

<p><hr>
<p> 
<img src="http://www.cs.washington.edu/homes/weld/photos/boys/stroller.jpeg" ALIGN=left>

Naturally, when we take the boys outside, they get considerable attention
from passersby. The usual refrain goes "Oh, how cute! Are they twins?! Two
boys? Are they identical? How old are they?" and we have the stock answers
hard wired. One day we took the boys to nearby Greenlake which is circled by
a paved trail and packed with individuals and families, walking, running,
cycling, and rollerblading, clockwise and counter, both alone and with pets
(dogs, cats, parrots and ferrets); it's as crowded as a zoo and crazy as a
circus. It quickly became apparent that twins were quite common here, and
happily we were largely ignored by the rank and file. Of course, we still
felt a need to share statistics with other parents of multiples, but this we
learned could be quite efficient.   One man approached, jogging at top speed
with a loaded double stroller and in the five seconds between first sighting
and perigee blurted out "Twin fraternal girls; two years!" and we barely
managed to respond "Twin fraternal boys; seven months!" before he vanished
in the distance. Such efficiency.

<p><hr>
(7/24/96)  In the past week my boys made an amazing realization--- they could
put <I>food</I> into their <I>own</I> mouths!  Imagine the sequence of
revelations from how wonderful it feels to drink milk when hungry, to the
discovery that there exist other foods besides milk (e.g., stewed prunes and
pureed green beans), to the recent blockbuster that they could feed
themselves!  Chunks of pasta, slices of toast, wafers of apple, and slivers
of banana all make their way, slowly, imperfectly, but deliberately into
their mouths. (Well, actually most of it ends up someplace else --- face,
clothes, chair, floor --- but a <I>bit</I> makes it into their mouths!)
<p>
Their excitement with the process is tangible. No longer are they content to
be fed, they demand an active role at dinnertime. Just sitting them in
highchairs calms their fussy complaints for a while, but soon they start
banging their hands on their tables until they are presented with Cheerios
or Baby Biscotti (our name for Zweiback toast). Since they are just learning
to feed themselves, we spoon feed them the bulk of their meals. Galen will
eat most anything, but Adam has developed quite particular tastes. When
offered a bite of Brown Cow yogurt, his mouth opens wide, but vegetables
yield a very different expression!

<p>
<hr>
Adam's other recent achievement is crawling. His first steps were two weeks
ago when Nathan was visiting. We were sitting on the kitchen floor playing
with toys, and Nathan was ambling around the dining room. When David called,
Nathan zoomed into the kitchen, crawling incredibly fast. Adam stared
intently and grew agitated as Nathan whizzed past him. Suddenly, Adam leaned
forward and took his first steps, crawling two feet or so. It was very
exciting, and he gurgled with self-satisfaction.  
<p>

<img src="http://www.cs.washington.edu/homes/weld/photos/boys/bullet.jpeg" ALIGN=right>


It took a while for Adam to repeat the achievement, but slowly his
proficiency has grown. For the first week he couldn't crawl very far because
he preferred to stretch out, reaching for his objective and this inevitably
left him flopped out on his belly - a position from which he could not
recover. I grew fascinated with the manner in which his motions evolved, day
to day, by trial and error. Over a period of a week, intent exploration led
him to the discovery of a mechanically stable way to transition from sitting
to crawling and back. I'll always remember his look of triumph when he first
spotted a toy, successfully retrieved it, and returned to sit and play with
it. Now he has mastered the lift-from-belly-to-crawl maneuver, and is
spending hours rising unsteadily into a toe-tip crouch and perfecting his
balance, settling securely back onto his knees only when the ground
threatens to claim him.  Since my parent's house is not childproof, it is
fortunate that he doesn't realized that he can easily crawl a dozen feet.
Anything farther than three still appears unattainable and fails to
motivate. But by repeatedly moving a desirable object (coffee mug, beer
bottle or newspaper) away as he approaches we can spur him to athletic heights. 

<p>
Naturally, Adam's ability to crawl provides him a considerable advantage
over Galen in the sibling-rivalry arms race. Not long does Galen get to keep
the choice toys!. Adam wheels into position, grabs the object before Galen
even recognizes the threat, and confidently crawls a safe distance to play.
We keep waiting for Adam's prowess to spur Galen's development, but his
behavior appears stuck in an evolutionary trap. Long ago, he realized that
by stretching his legs way out in front, he could use the tripod principle
to stabilize the sitting position. (Actually, we're not sure whether he
solved the physics equations analytically or if he reached this
understanding via a brilliant intuitive leap.) In any case, the legs now
prevent him from crawling towards a toy. He keeps trying and trying,
valiantly leaning forward and slapping at the ground. But no matter how hard
he struggles, the toys don't get closer. 

<p> (8/15/96) Galen still isn't crawling, but he <i> has </i> learned to
spin around and around on the hardwood floor. It's very funny to watch,
this lazy-susan routine, and its interesting to ponder why Adam never
rotated like a top when Galen finds it so amusing.  It's also interesting
how the behavior equalizes the sibling-rivalry arms race. Now, when
Adam stalks in search of a prize toy, Galen simply spins, keeping his back
towards his predatory brother.  Adam keeps trying the end-run,
but Galen can spin faster than Adam can crawl!

<p> <hr><p> (9/2/96) Galen finally started moving last week. While he still
isn't doing a symmetrical crawl (he lunges forward with both hands, then
uses his left foot to scooch his flacid right leg underneath his bum, and
repeats), we can move surprisingly fast.  Galen's new mobility combined
with Adam's ability to climb stairs and pull into a standing position,
makes for a huge potential disaster. Fortunately, the boys like to stay
together. If we move one into the bedroom (to change a diaper, say) the
other quickly appears. They don't really play together in any meaningful
way, but they do make eye contact frequently and burst out giggling. Melts
my heart.

<p><hr><p> (10/15/96) A month and a half have passed, but Galen
<i>still</i> doesn't crawl in the traditional sense. He lopes like an
injured soldier or a half-tamed animal. Indeed, his odd gait earned him the
nickname "Monkey Boy." Meanwhile, tiny Adam crawls at a feverish
pace. Since he often carries small toys in his mouth, he looks like a
puppy. When he catches sight of some forbidden object in the distance, his
short little legs pump at high frequency, shaking his round baby bum, and he
recedes into the distance.

<p> The past month has also changed the dynamics of the twins'
toy-possession arms race. Although Adam still has a stronger grip and can
force a toy from his brother's grasp, Galen seems now to have the
advantage. His secret is a meticulous defense. When Galen senses Adam's
predatory pursuit, he spins 180 degrees and lopes away. Adam rarely gets
close enough to overpower his sibling. When the situation is reversed
however, clueless Adam appears oblivious to the impending threat of his
approaching brother. Galen simply sidles up and snatches; then spins and
scrams. 

<p><hr><p>
Peach Apricot Muesli. It sure <i>sounds</i> good! But the boys know
better. Somehow they sense the spoon's contents before it ever makes it
<i>near</i> their mouths. Adam shakes his head, clamps lips shut and
flails his arms in a (usually successful) attempt to deflect incoming
mouthfuls. Galen can sometimes be tricked into a bite, but
then... <i>pause</i> ... the mouth opens, tongue rolls back, and the
complete spoon's contents is slowly and inexorably forced back out. The
masticated mess rolls down the chin and impacts the bib.


<p><hr><p>
<img src="http://www.cs.washington.edu/homes/weld/photos/boys/adam-bday.jpeg" ALIGN=left>

(10/22/96) How can a whole year have passed? This should be a happy day,
and indeed the boys are happy (although they have no idea all this fanfare
is about <i> them!)</i>, but it makes me sad. It reminds me too undeniably
that time is an ever faster torrent. When I was a child, a morning could
last <i>soooo</i> long. I remember watching Apollo 13 on TV and Dad saying
that it would take <i>three days</i> for the astronauts to get to the
moon. <i>Three days?!?</i> Sure, being the first person to walk on the moon would
be cool, but three days was <i>way</i> too much of a sacrifice. 

<p> If the rivers of time flow ever faster towards the great fall, then my
boys must still be floating in a placid eddy.  But when I look at them,
they don't <i>seem</i> placid?!  They revel in life, experiencing the most
dramatic ranges of emotion. Why is it that we seem less able to enjoy life
the older we get? Do the river banks start moving by so fast that we become
transfixed, unable to focus on the journey's pleasures for fear of reaching
the final destination?

<p><hr><p>
Today's observation: My sons are musical instruments, and my family <i>is</i>
an orchestra. 

<p> Yes, it's true --- Galen loves to be played percussion. He lies on his
back like an L, feet straight up in the air, supported by my lap. Sensing
the performance is about to begin, he hums "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" and I start
rhythmically pumping his legs, thumping his belly, tapping his chest, and
vibrating him into sound. He smiles and changes pitch. When our efforts
merge in brilliant harmony, he becomes amazed at his output and laughs ---
which <i>really</i> sounds funny, causing more laughter. 

<p> Meanwhile, Adam is on <i>his</i> back in <i>Mom's</i> lap, resonating
away. So we play together, side by side, on the kitchen floor. The family
orchestra.

<p><hr><p>
Over time, Adam and Galen have grown to love baths. The mere sound of
a tub running water draws Adam from the most distant room in the house. I
hadn't thought that Galen felt as strongly, but this morning I learned
otherwise. 

<p>
Assuming Margaret and Adam were seconds behind me, I carried Galen upstairs
and left him playing in the beroom whil I jumped in the shower. Seconds
later he was standing against the side of the tub, batting at the shower
curtain. I sang to him as I rinsed shampoo... Then heard a meaty thud
and felt something wriggle against my ankles. I still don't know how he
managed to climb over and fall in!

<p>
When Margaret and Adam finally arrived they were surprised to see Galen
peering thru the steam, fully dressed, sopping wet, and very happy. He shed
clothes and we cleaned up together.

<p><hr><p> The boys are fascinated with the concepts "in" and "out." Adam will
spend hours on the kitchen floor placing bowls, first one in the other, and
then vice versa. All the time, he has his tongue protruding in
concentration. 

<p> Both love to open and close doors. With its swinging springy action,
the kitchen door is best. They will crawl to one room, circle behind the
door, then push it shut. There is a moment of tension when it rests closed,
especially if the boys are separated. Drumming my fingers lures the hidden
boys close to the door. Then I pull the door open and peer around to
giggles. Once I prop the door open on the new side, Adam and Galen race for
the chance to push it closed again.

<p><hr><p> (11/30/96) Adam has  his projects. I have no idea how he decides
what to focus on, but when he sets his mind to something he becomes
completely pig headed. Don't even think of interrupting him, unless you are
willing to brave a total tantrum. 
<p>
So what does he do? Well, a few nights ago he was obsessed with the arch
formed between the piano's two right legs. He crawled up and over, through
the arch, then turned around and went back. Again. And again. Grunting with
effort. Tongue out in concentration. 
<p>
The next day it was the green ball. He'd ctach it, grab it, toss it onto
the stoop leading towards the bedroom stairs, then climb onto the stoop,
throw it off, climb off, and repeat. Over and over. 
<p>
Today, it was the toy box. He emptied the red crate of toys (mostly), then
climb inside. Then climb out. (Sounds easy, but the box's walls are pretty
high, so it was a real challenge. And any challenge is worth
savoring. Again and again. 

<p><hr><p> 


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Adam in garbage can

Bedtime routine - on couch

Garbage can as a walker

laughing at the speaker

Chasing each other

adam butting the ball

first real illness

first birthday
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